The Name Before the Username

The W 183rd Street sign in Washington Heights — the street number TAKI 183 wrote across New York.

Nobody had to explain the handle to you.

You picked one. It is not the name on your documents. You use it where the given name would mean less, and you have been quietly building it for years — the same name across different places, so that people who only know you there know it's you. If somebody said it out loud in a room, you would know precisely what it was worth.

That is not an internet behaviour that happens to be old. It is an old behaviour that the internet inherited, and the specific version this culture built ran on foot, through Manhattan, twenty-five years before anyone typed a username.

July 21, 1971

On that Wednesday the New York Times ran a piece headlined "'Taki 183' Spawns Pen Pals."

Its subject was a seventeen-year-old from Washington Heights. First name Demetrios; the surname has never been made public, not in 1971 and not in interviews given fifty years later. TAKI came from Demetraki, the Greek diminutive of his name. 183 was his street.

He worked as a foot messenger, carrying packages around Manhattan, and he wrote his name wherever the job took him. In his own words, decades on: "I was writing a lot when I was a delivery guy. I used to deliver the whole East Side, basically" — on poles, and "anywhere that was out there."

The article did not discover a phenomenon. It documented one already in progress: it named five other writers who had started doing the same thing — JOE 136, BARBARA 62, EEL 159, YANK 135, LEO 136 — and ran a photograph of JULIO 204, the writer from Inwood whom TAKI has always credited as his own inspiration.

The line from the piece that survives is TAKI's: "I work, I pay taxes too and it doesn't harm anybody."

What the article actually did

Not what the retellings say. It did not create writers out of nothing; it named the ones it found. What it did was confer status, and TAKI is the clearest witness to that:

"It gave me legendary status. After all, if the New York Times says so, it must be true!"

And on why the paper bothered at all:

"I didn't understand why they would waste their time on some kid who was tagging… For stupid things they put me into the New York Times."

Before July 1971 writing your name around the city was a neighbourhood habit. Afterwards it was something with a scoreboard, a public, and an audience of other people doing it. That is the change: not the practice, the competition.

Name plus number

The convention TAKI adopted from JULIO 204 was simple and complete: a name you chose, and the street you were from.

Both halves matter. The name is the part you invented, and it is not accountable to your family or your school or your paperwork. The number is the part that is true — it is where you actually live, and it means anyone who cares can work out where you're from.

Chosen identity, anchored to a real address. Nobody has documented where the format came from before Julio, and it is safest to say it is attested from him forward rather than invented by anyone in particular.

Why he wrote it

The honest answer is not political and TAKI has never dressed it up:

"I liked the feeling of getting my name up, and I liked the idea of getting away with it. I soon became obsessed."

Getting your name up. Getting away with it. Becoming obsessed with the count.

If that sounds familiar it is because it is the same loop that every platform since has been engineered to produce, except that his ran on shoe leather and a marker, the reach was the city rather than an audience, and nobody was selling advertising against it.

He wasn't the first, which is the better story

TAKI was not the first writer and has never claimed to be. JULIO 204 was up in Inwood before him — sometime in the mid-to-late sixties, depending on which account you take — and stayed local, retiring after a short run.

TAKI's job took him everywhere, so his name went everywhere, and a reporter noticed. He is not the origin of the practice. He is the moment it became visible, and being seen is what turned a habit into a competition.

Which is, more or less, what happens to every handle. You choose it, you use it, and at some point somebody outside your circle repeats it back to you and it stops being only yours.

Sources: [Wikipedia — TAKI 183](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/TAKI_183) · [TAKI 183 official site](https://www.taki183.net/) · [StreetArtNYC — Lois Stavsky interview, 2015](https://streetartnyc.org/blog/2015/06/29/the-legendary-taki-183-on-tagging-the-new-york-times-the-wall-on-207th-street-instafame-phantom-art-graffiti-and-more/) · [Gothamist interview](https://tollbit.gothamist.com/arts-entertainment/an-interview-with-the-forefather-of-new-york-city-graffiti) · [Martinez Gallery — the 1971 article](https://www.martinezgallery.com/vanguard/taki-183-spawns-pen-pals) · [Wikipedia — Julio 204](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Julio_204) · [at149st — NYC Graffiti History Part 1](https://www.at149st.com/hpart1.html)


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